The Otter in the Smoke: A Zistopia Story
by DrCan
Summary: For Predators, everyday is a struggle to avoid the painful bite of their tame collars. For others, like Emmitt Otterton, keeping calm is no problem. As one of Zootopia's few predator hitmen, it's his job to keep his cool under pressure. But when a hit takes an unexpected turn, Emmitt meets someone that may break that control. Based on the Zistopia AU by nicolaswildes.
1. Chapter 1

**I hope that everyone enjoys the story. Majority of the credit for this concept should go to nicolaswildes** **and their awesome Zistopia AU. Go check it out if you haven't already.**

In modern society, my profession does not exist. Predators wear collars to prevent us from 'succumbing' to our savage impulses. If our hearts start pumping and emotions begin to run hot, then the collars make us docile.

Or in some instances, kills us.

A 'predator hitman' shouldn't be real. The collar shocks us before we pull the trigger or bare our fangs. This is true for the average predator. Those of us capable of controlling our emotions, and keeping ourselves calm, do not fear the collar's bite.

My mind is what keeps it in check. I do not fly off the handle or make irrational decisions. I look at what needs to be done, and I do it. Taking an animals life is a means to an end. Nothing more.

My name is Emmitt Otterton, and killing others is my job.

* * *

"Okay Otterton, listen up, because you've only got one shot at this and the clock is ticking down faster than a cheetah with his tail on fire." Redmane was riled up enough that his collar was blinking an annoyed yellow. If he kept at it he would be feeling several shocks very soon.

I polietely remind him to keep his temper down. "I'm almost offended that you feel the need to treat me like some jumped up punk-rocker off the streets. You wanted a professional and so here I am. Explain the situation before you're collar puts you down." Just because the job was important didn't mean he had to start letting his hackles rise.

The hyena gangster gave me a glare, not liking being told how to act, but took my advice. He grabbed a small joint from the weathered ashtray on his desk and lit it up, taking in several long drags before speaking again. The light on his collar shifted to a solid green.

"Fine," he exhaled through a puff of smoke. "Now be quiet."

"For the past few months I've been using an accountant, Clarence Clovenbach, to shift my money around. I was using him to make sure everything looked legit and I didn't get hooked by some tax bullshit. I mostly used him to hide my money in 'business ventures' and public works. Stuff that could hide a lot of dough without being questioned.

"Let me guess," I interrupt. "He found out that you've been running a highly successful criminal operation, spanning almost half the city, and is now threatening to go to the cops."  
Eddie nodded his head. "Yeah, that's pretty much it. He came in this morning demanding to know what was going on. I told him that everything was fine and that he was just misreading some things. He said that none of the numbers added up and I was definietly apart of something fishy. He gave me twenty-four hours to confess, or he'd give everything he had to the ZPD."

Retelling the exchange made Redmane's lips rise, showing off his impressive set of teeth. I suspect he realized what was happening and instead of going off the handle, took another long drag from the joint. Burning it down to nothing more than a small roach.  
"I've got a number of cops under my paw right now, but no one high enough to make this disappear." He jabbed a finger almost as long as my arm at me. "Which is where you come in."

I nodded once, mentally preparing myself for the night ahead. Before I could ask where Clarence lives, Redmane began speaking.

"It does kind of bum me out though," he said with that airy tone many stoners have. "He's one of those prey that doesn't fear us preds. If he wasn't such a narc I could have seen us working together for a little while." Eddie remaines silent, letting his comment hang in the air like a fruit ripe for the picking.

After working with him several times I learned that a side effect of his smoking often led him to day dreaming. Trying to make him refocus on the conversation would only make it worse, so I let him work back on his own time.

Being my first time in his office, I looked it over while he tried to refocus. Several large filing cabinets sat behind his desk. They're rumored to be brimming with information about animals all over the city. His organization mostly focused on stealing and fencing goods, but they were just as talented as blackmailers and information gatheres. I wouldn't have been surprised if there was a file on me in one of those drawers.

Aside from the cabinets and his desk, the rest of the office was laid out like some kind of lounge. There were plenty of comfy, though aged, looking furniture for animals of all sizes to rest on. A fully stocked bar, with both alcohol and drugs, and a large radio set near the entrace that was busy playing The Horsey Brothers.

There were several pictures of Redmane and friends throughout the room. In some of them they were dressed in flashy suits or driving open topped cars in the city. Others were just framed mug shots of past and present crew members.

Redmane's eyes eventually wandered down from the ceiling and we were back to business.

"He needs to be taken out. Tonight. Whatever it takes."

While there were hundreds of ways to kill, sometimes clients liked it done in a certain style. "Is there any special requests you have for tonight?"

Eddie shook his head slowly. "I don't care how you do it, as long as it doesn't get traced back to me."

A final nod. "You've already paid my consultation fee. The rest I will expect tomorrow evening by seven sharp, along with two grand extra because it's a rush job. Give me his address and let me handle the rest."

"He lives down in Savanna Central in the Jabali Street Apartments, room 604. Last I heard he lived alone."

"Good. You'll see me tomorrow." Our business now settled I left the stoned hyena alone with his wandering thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

Standing in the darkened alley across from Clovenhoof's apartment, I kept watch over the street. Keeping my eyes open for anything that might cause me trouble later on.

For a Friday night closing in at two am, the streets were quiet. Most bars were stuck open for a few more last calls. Leaving the bar fly's plenty of time to soak up as many drinks as possible before they were thrown back out into the streets to stumble their ways back home, or to whatever alley would take them in for the evening.

The late night debauchery was often a good cover for post job escapes. One animal quietly walking home, maybe a misstep here and there, among a score of other drunks, is as close to a perfect cover as one can get.

I shift my view over to the apartment itself. It's a multistory building made to house mid-sized animals. The neighborhood is mostly populated by prey, so I had to be careful with my entry. Nothing drew the police quicker than a predator in an area they weren't expected to be.

Getting inside could be difficult. There was always a chance there was a backdoor, but it was just as likely that it would be locked. Picking it would take time, and if I were caught there was no explaining that. Breaking into the lobby could be an option, but that was far too obvious for my liking. That would be an absolute last resort.

I stood there trying to think of a few more ideas, when the answer to my problems started walking up.

He was dressed in a deep blue collared button up, his wool pushing the shirt out so much that he had to keep half of the buttons open. While he was busy pulling his keys out I moved in close. I didn't want to scare him, or make him think I was coming after him. As I walked toward him I began weaving a little back and forth. I closed my eyes half way and put on a small smirk, one I would hope he assumed I got from drinking too much.

"Hey man, you wouldn't mind letting me in would ya?" A wide eyed stare greeted me as the sheep turned to face me. His keys were in his hoof, pointed out as a makeshift weapon. I pretended to not to see that, and continued slurring an explanation.

"My friend just moved in here, but I forgot which room was his. I had to run and get some party favors," I shook my bag like it held all you'd need for a night of fun. "I don't want to be a jerk and start ringing everyone's doorbell trying to find the right room. Ya dig?" I ended with a wide smile, though made sure my teeth weren't showing.

The sheep looked me up and down for a second. Realizing I wasn't a threat, at least to him, the look of fear turned to one of annoyance.

"Fine." Was all he said to my face. The rest he unsuccessfully murmured to himself. "Fucking good for nothing preds. Wished the collars would wipe them out already."

Standing behind him I thought of all the ways that I could end his life. A dash up his legs, clamp down on his shoulders and wrap a garotte around his throat. Pull my gun out from my bag and put two in the back of his head.

If I wanted to be truly vicious, I could bring him down to my level with two quick slashes across his legs. On his knees he could look me in the eye as I shoved my knife into his heart.

Opening the door he gave a glance back to see if I was still there, completely unaware of the dark thoughts in my head. My collar giving him no indication that there was anything to be afraid of.

"Thanks man, you're a real life saver." I said stumbling inside.

The sheep just grunted and made his way to the stairs.

The lobby wasn't much to look at, only containing a single bench for sitting. The wall across from it was filled with vertical mailboxes. Each with a specific name and room number. I walked up to the six hundred stack to check the names. On mailbox 604, _Clovenbach_ was stenciled in dark letters.

Knowing for sure where my target was, I made my way up to him. I kept my head down in case there was any surveillance cameras in the building. I was confident there wasn't any, but playing it safe never hurt.

I pulled my gloves on before hitting the number six for the elevator.

It groaned and jumped as it reached the sixth floor. The doors slid open slowly to the middle of an empty hallway. The ugly carpeting accentuating the poorly painted walls made me feel like I was standing in a Pat Steer painting.

Following the numbers on the doors, I found 604 near the end of hall.

There wasn't any light coming from under the door, and after putting my ear up to it, found there wasn't any noise coming from inside either. Both were good signs. Unless Mr. Clovenbach like to read quietly in his bed, then I would have a problem.

Wasting time worrying wasn't going to help, so I got to work. Reaching into my bag I grabbed my gun, placing it into the shoulder holster under my jacket, and my lock pick.

Most mammals held too much faith in their door's locks.

The average lock took less than sixty seconds to pick. I had gotten my time down to almost thirty.

After a few twists and just enough pressure the lock clicked open. I kept my ears up, listening for any kind of recognition for what happened. Thankfully all remained quiet.

I put the picks back in my bag and eased inside. Shutting the door behind me.

The apartment was modest, and obviously owned by a bachelor. There were plenty of dirty plates and old clothes laid out around the floor and furniture. It was the kind of sty you expect from a man that hasn't had much luck with women in a very long time.

I moved past the kitchen and towards the living room, avoiding the random mess piles as much as possible. Moving slowly made sure my footsteps were quiet, but the longer I was here the more the odds were in favor of something going wrong.

From the living room there were two closed doors on opposite walls. Neither door had any light coming from behind it and both were silent. I moved towards the door with the smallest stacks of filth around it, hoping that it was a sign of the bedroom.

At the door I slowly turned the handle and cracked it open. From the dim light of the street coming in through the window, I was able to make out the outline of a bed. A large lump on top of it lifted and lowered at an even tempo.

I opened the door enough to let myself in and moved towards Clovenbach's bed. Like the living room and kitchen, the bedroom was one large mess. A small writing desk sat near the door with stacks of papers lying all over it.

Clarence was sound asleep, wrapped tightly in a large blanket. Standing where I was it would be a simple matter to just shoot him dead and get out. That would leave too many questions, and put the ZPD out on the hunt.

Redmane didn't want that, and I wanted it even less. So instead. I got a little creative.

I snuck out of the bedroom and back into the living. There I grabbed a chair and moved it next to Clovenbach's desk.  
With the chair in place I turned on the lamp next to the bed and jabbed my gun into his head several times.

Still asleep, he tried to push it away. I locked his arm down with my free hand and jabbed him even harder than before.

"What..." he started to say, but quickly stopped when he realized the situation. I released his arm and he pulled it close to his body while starting to sit up.

"Don't scream," I said. "If you make any noise at all, I'll put a bullet right in the middle of your skull. Nod if you understand."

He slowly nodded his head, the terror apparent in his eyes.

"Wh-wh-what do you want," Clarence stammered out.

"First, I'd like you to get out of bed." I waved the gun in a rising motion. In situations like these, animals tended to need a visual guide to my demands. I backed away from him a few steps as he stood up.

As an otter, I am not an intimidating predator. Many times in the past, animals have thought they could get the better of me, whether I was armed or not. This pig was easily double my height and likely weighed in well over 160 pounds. I'm sure he thought overpowering me would be easy.

"Now, before you get any ideas, I have done this many times. If you try anything I won't kill you, I'll shoot you in your leg. Then, I will shoot you in both your arms, and lastly, I will put one in your stomach. You'll be dead by morning, but I promise you it will be a very painful death."

"Do you understand?"

Even with my threat out in the open, Clarence's body language started shifting. He moved his left foot back, placing his weight on it for a lunge. His arms were slightly in front of his body now, ready to grab for my gun.

"You can't shoot me," he said with a sliver of confidence. "Your collar won't let you. It's meant to stop your predatory impulses."

My face broke out into a wild grin, my eyes opening up wide, with my teeth standing out in the lamp light. "If I had a dollar every time one of you prey said that to me, I'd be able to buy all the fish in the sea."

I took a step forward.

This was a bit of a gamble, but it worked before and I'm sure it would work again. Instincts run deep, and when faced with a deadly predator, prey will back down. I kept my smile up and locked eyes with him.

"You're right, these collars do stop predators from killing. If they're emotional invested that is. My collar can't do anything to me if I don't care what happens to you. What if you're nothing but a bug to me? Have you ever felt anything when you stepped on an ant hill? Do you think I'll feel anything if I have to pull this trigger?"

As I advanced a few more steps Clarence buckled under the pressure. He threw his hands up in the air. "F-f-f-fine. I-I-I won't do anything. Just t-t-t-tell me what you want."

I kept smiling, making sure he knew I was in charge. "All I want you to do, is to take a seat at your desk. If you listen to me, I promise you'll be okay."

I walked beside his desk and nodded my head at it. He walked slowly, but eventually took a seat at the desk. I made another shake with my gun and he scooted his chair in close. This way I'd have a few seconds if he tried anything.

"Thank you for being so understanding. Next, I need you to hand me a few pieces of writing you've done. Letters would be preferable, but I'll take what I can get."

He looked at me with a confused look as he pulled a drawer open and removed a handwritten letter. I was surprised to see that his writing flowed elegantly along the paper and that all the words were kept neat and tidy. A stark difference to how he kept his apartment.

I took the letter and pocketed it. "Thank you Mr. Clovenbach. I'll let you in on a secret. Me and my associates are planning a robbery, and we needed a copy of your handwriting. I'm sorry it had to happen like this, but it was the quickest way to get what we wanted."

He kept his hooves on the table. "You've got what you want. P-p-p-please leave now."

"Of course, I would hate to overstay my welcome. I would appreciate it greatly if you would close your eyes and cover your ears for the next few seconds."

The look he gave me was an interesting mix of defiance and terror.

"I know, I know, it's scary to trust the man that has a gun to you. I haven't hurt you yet though, and I'm being honest to you when I say I have no intention to do you any harm," I said as sincerely as possible.

"I'm just doing this to make sure you don't follow me out. So just put your hooves to your head, and count to ten."

"Once you're done, you'll never see me again." I pointed the gun at the ground and put my paw over my chest. "I promise."

Clarence looked from the gun to my face several times. A minor war waging inside. I kept the gun off him as a show of good faith.

At last his decision was made. "Okay, I'll do it."

He flattened his ears to his head and placed his hooves over them. Giving me one last look he clamped his eyes shut and began counting outloud.  
"Ten"

"Nine"

"Eight"

"Sev-" Was all he got to before the bullet entered through the side of his head.

He remained sitting up for a moment, then slumped back against his chair. His arms fell to his sides while his face was pointed towards the ceiling. Brain and skull slowly sliding down the wall and seeping into the carpet.

Standing on the chair next to Clovenbach, as the blood flowed from the hole in his skull, I could only think one thing.

Fool.


	3. Chapter 3

If I wanted Clovenbach's death to pass as a suicide, I had to create a story.

I moved my chair closer to the body and placed the gun in his right hoof. Making him grip the gun around the handle and trigger.

While holding the gun in his hoof, I lifted his arm up to roughly where his head would have been and released.

With nothing holding them up, gun and arm dropped down in unity. At the end of its fall the gun bounced several times until it lay underneath the desk. There it would stay, holding a solitary vigil over the deceased.

The scene was set. All that was left were a few key details to lead the police to the conclusion I wanted.

I hopped off the chair and combed the room for any evidence I might have left behind. I was always careful during a job, but double checking separated the pups from the dogs. Even an unchecked hair could lead them to me.

Thanks to Clovenbach's messy lifestyle my sweep took extra time. Looking at my watch showed I needed to leave quickly. I left the room, giving it a final once over from the door. Satisfied everything was as it should be, I closed the door and moved to the final piece.

I pulled the letter Clovenbach had given me, pulled out several pieces of stationary and a flashlight from my bag, and sat at the kitchen table.

With the flashlight I studied his hoofwriting closely. Noting the way that every letter was precisely the same every time. How his t's were crossed with a slight slope and that every period was made with just a bit too much pressure. Creating a slight indent in the paper.

I jotted down what I wanted to say on a piece of paper, and slowly transcribed into Clovenbach's hoofwriting.

Like many aspects of a hitman's job, this one required more patience then anything. I could probably rush it and get close enough to his style that the average detective wouldn't notice a difference, but that wasn't me. It had to be perfect, every time. If it took longer to do it, then so be it.

By the time I was done, my watch said 3:22. In front of me lay a suicide letter perfectly written in Clovenbach's style. I read it a final time.

 _To whom it may concern,_

 _I know that this is not a good decision, but I can't seem to get anything right. Even when I am succeeding, I feel like everything I touch is_ _ruined by my presence_ _._

 _I have gone over this many times in my head the last few months, and I have tried to find another solution. But I can't._

 _To everyone this hurts, I am truly sorry._

 _Clarence Clovenbach_

The letter is short, but leaves a lot for the reader to dissect. If the cops show it to his friends and co-workers, they'll be busy raking their brains trying to pinpoint any spots in the past where Clovenbach seemed off. Even if only a few mammals can give examples, it will be enough to plant the seed in everyone's mind.

Now that everything was set, all I had to do was pack up and leave. Once more I went through the room to eliminate any traces I might have left behind.

I slung my bag over my back and move to the door carefully. Even though my job was done, there were still plenty of chances to screw up.

Ear up to the door I listened for any animals walking through the halls. I heard two voices coming from the other side of the door, but they were quickly getting quieter.

I stood still against the door and waited.

Several seconds went by before I heard the ding of the elevator, then the rattling of the doors as they closed shut.

Another few seconds passed as I waited out any other possible interruptions. Confident there wasn't anyone else on the outside, I opened up the door and walked out. I locked the apartment as I left.

Fully locked up and without anyone the wiser, I made my way to the stairs at a steady pace. I kept my head down until I was clear of the building.

Once outside I began moving down the street in the opposite direction of where my car was parked. Driving here wasn't a problem, but so early in the morning, seeing a predator driving around, would only draw suspicion. I would have to pick it up sometime tomorrow.

For now I just had to make it to a predator friendly neighborhood. There I would get a hotel for the rest of the night.

I walked quickly, but avoided rushing. I presented the perfect image of a mammal just trying to get home after a late night.

Body language is important to mammals. Scientist have said it makes up almost a third of our communication. That means an animals look can be as his speech.

Head down, a meek posture, acting submissive, all signs of an animal incapable of any real violence. The downside is it can have the effect of drawing in asshole ungulates on the lookout for trouble.

The car was an older model four door convertible, filled to capacity with five oryx. I saw it's headlights a little after leaving Clovenbach's apartment, but didn't think anything about it. After taking a few random turns onto different streets, it became obvious that they were following me.

I kept walking, the road in front illuminated by the cars headlights, weighing my options. If I focused I could just hear them over the engine as it puttered behind me. I couldn't understand the words, but their tone was practically dripping with malice.

Even with my small size I could probably take one or two of them, but there was no way I was going to make it out from a fight with five of them.

Fight or flight. Those were the options, and they were both terrible. I wasn't going to escape on paw, and I probably wouldn't survive a fight. My mind raced for a third option.

One of the orxy decided to take the decision out of my paws. He hopped out of the car and made his way over to me. The car remained behind, but I knew his friends would be ready to rush in at a moments notice.

We walked together in silence for a few feet. "Kind of late to be out. Don't you think, _pred,_ " he asked practically spitting that last word at me. He wasn't drunk, just a guy out with his friends for a late night drive. Maybe they had been out looking for someone. Walking by themselves. Without any witnesses or citizens to help them. They were prey on the hunt. Evolution be damned.

"Agreed," I slurred, still pretending to be drunk. "I guess I lost track of time. That'll happen when you're having fun." I looked up at him with a wide smile. Catching his eye, I knew what was about to happen.

"Oh yeah, we know all about that." The kick came flying out from behind me, and was meant to send me flying into the street for the car to finish off.

I ducked before his hoof could hit. Without having my body to stop it, his momentum carried his leg into the air. Off balance like he was I jumped to the leg still on the ground and gave it a kick of my own. His knee buckled to the side and he dropped to the concrete.

"Fuck," he cursed as he fell. He caught himself with one arm, but between his weight and the surprise of the counter, it was only enough to slow him down. The side of his head made a solid crack against the ground.

He was stunned, but not out. I gave him another kick right in the muzzle and started running.

I heard his friends get to him just as I turned a corner down a small alley. It was too narrow for the car, but I still had to worry about them chasing me down on hoof.

Dropping their friend like that would make them wonder if I was worth the trouble. I wasn't going to bet on them turning tail, so I kept running.

I dodged past trash cans and over puddles, moving quickly to the other road. As my bag bounced against my back I was reminded it was filled with my illicit equipment. Getting caught with that would mean at least a year in jail, probably more. I had to stash somewhere quick.

I spotted a hole in one of the buildings about chest level. I threw the bag in the hole and moved a few stray cinder blocks in front to hide it.

It only cost me a couple of seconds, but every moment I wasn't running put me closer to a beating.

With the bag hidden I dropped to all fours and ran. I heard my collar give me the warning beep. The sensor was barely smart enough to distinguish physical activity from emotional outbursts. If I wasn't careful I could add a few nasty shocks to my ever growing series of problems. My night just kept getting better and better.

Trying to stay calm during a fight is damn hard. Between the adrenaline and the need to focus on the fight, I could only do it for a few minutes at most.

Hundred feet left to go. A straight shot. No problem.  
Seventy feet. My limbs felt like lead weights.

Fifty feet. My vision started to tunnel. All I saw was the end.

Twenty feet. Almost there. Almost there. Almost there.

In the final ten feet the convertible cut in front of the alley.

Skidding to a halt I spun my head around and saw three oryx rushing my way from where I had just been. The alley was too small for them to run shoulder to shoulder, but that didn't slow them down. Their long legs cleared the distance like it was nothing.

A door slamed shut and I turned my attention back to the car. There the last of the oryx began walking over to me. The way the one in front was limping told me it was the one that attacked me.

"You thought we'd let you get away with attacking us pred? There are rules here man. Mammal like you, going savage like that. You need to be put down," his voice was full of menace as he slowly walked towards me. I glared daggers back at him as I tried to keep track of everyone.

"You know Trip, I think he's scared," an oryx from behind said.  
"Oh yeah," replied another one. "You can see him shaking. Bet he's regretting what he did earlier."

"He didn't realize that you can't mess with one of the boys," the one by the car said nonchalantly.

Trip, who seemed to be the leader of the group, stood directly in front of me. There was hate in his eyes and he was practically foaming at the mouth as he spoke.

"The pred thinks he's better than us. Just because his kind used to eat ours. That makes him think he's better than us," as he spoke he waved his arms wildly. Building himself into a frenzy. "Just because he 'evolved' to kill other animals, that's supposed to make you superior? Well guess what pred. With that collar on, you're nothing. Ain't that right boys?"

His friends cheered together with a loud "Yeah!"

"We're going to show him what we think of punk ass preds that think they're better than us. We'll show him what the new natural order is! Roscoe, grab him!"

I heard movement from behind and quickly jumped towards it. Roscoe wasn't expecting me to close the distance and walked right over me into his friends. I heard Trip yell out as he tried to shove his friend out of the way. In the tight alley space that could take some time. With my back relatively safe, I only had to worry about the two in front.

They were smarter than their friends though, and didn't rush right in. The first one was slightly more muscular than the others, and had a few scars on his scalp near his antlers. He'd been in a few fights in the past and was showing his experience. He sized me up and threw a few quick jabs. I dodged them easily enough and slashed at him with my claws. I hit home once but it was shallow.

He must have felt confident he could take me because he struck down at me with a big right hook. I jumped to the left at the last second, which caused him to fall forward. Before I could get moving around him a hoof came in out of nowhere and nailed me in the side.

Apparently the oryx had caught himself with his right arm and then barrel rolled around to shove me with his left. If I wasn't careening towards a brick wall I would have been impressed by his reflexes. As it was I had other things on my mind.

Before I hit the wall I turned my body mid-air to catch myself. As soon as I hit the wall I pushed off with my back legs and went flying towards the final Oryx. I had my claws out and teeth bared, ready to rip him to shreds.

My collar beeped once before giving me a maximum power shock.

The electricity made all my muscles clench at once. Instead of the brutal attack I was going for, I limply bounced off of the oryx's chest. My body made a quiet thump as it hit the ground.

I tried to get back to my senses, but the shock had done some serious damage. Before I realized it, I was up in the air being crushed by a powerful bear hug. My addled mind was incapable of putting up even the smallest fight.

All I could do was stare as Trip and his friends walked up to me. Necks cracking and arms flexing.

"Don't know why it took so long, but your collars working now bitch. I think we'll help it teach you a few lessons in how to behave!" He struck me several times in the stomach and sides. I clenched my jaw tight and felt a trickle of blood pass through my teeth.

Another hoof came flying in to crack me in the side of the head. My vision swam, and the number of oryx seemed to double. The one holding me chuckled as my head lolled back and forth.

"You've been pretty quiet pred. Been to busy hoping around like some punk rabbit to talk?"

"We're talking now," I wheezed quietly between breaths. "I was afraid we missed that part of the night."

He put his hoof under my chin and forced my gaze from the ground to his eyes. "He speaks," he said as if me talking was some kind of feat. "Since you're not going anywhere, how about you tell us pred. What were you doing in our neighborhood?"

I held his gaze. "Your neighborhood? If I would have known that, I would have brought you presents." Antagonizing them would only make things worse, but I needed time to recover. Even a few seconds would help.

"Maybe some nice grass to chew on. I hear they've got a real quality blend for you grazers over at The Bluegrass Garden. Next time I swing by I'll pick some up for you and the boys here."

Trip shook his head. "Alright pred, hope your happy with those as your last words."

I gave him a large grin, showing off my many sharp teeth. "Couldn't be happier."

He pulled his arm back for a knockout punch. Just as his hoof started flying towards my face I bit down on my captor's arm as hard as I could. Warm blood welled inside my mouth, coating my tongue and teeth.

The oryx yelped in pain and let go of me. Taking the punch that was meant for my face right in the chest. He stumbled backwards a few steps, but kept standing.

"Get him," yelled Trip.  
After that it was all chaos.

I wasn't going to outrun the oryx, but I could tie them up in the small alley. I jumped between legs, twisted around punches, baited them to attack me, then tripped them into one another. I was a wild energy given form.

In the midst of all the chaos, for the briefest of moments, I enjoyed what I was doing. It was a thrill. A rush that my instincts were telling me was as natural as breathing. But by reveling in that feeling, I missed my chance to escape.

My collar delivered another major shock. As painful as the first one from earlier.

They didn't waste any time gloating. Instead they went straight to the beating. I was batted around like a ball. Just when I thought they were done, another kick would send me flying. I would bounce off walls, or into the sides of a dumpster. Once or twice I tried to roll away, to hide wherever I could, but they were relentless.

I was barely conscious, covered in blood, when I heard a new voice. This one was different from the rest, but just as angry. I couldn't tell what was happening, but the beating stopped. I felt, more than heard, the clicks of hooves against concrete as they walked away from me. The sound of squealing tires signaled their departure.

There I laid, in a pool of my own blood. Battered, broken, and bruised. Barely conscious enough to notice the new scent. Without the headlights it was impossible to see who was standing next to me. They weren't trying to hurt me though, they were trying to pick me up.

I didn't have the energy or will to fight it. So I let myself be moved.

The last thing I heard before falling to the darkness, was an assurance that everything would be okay.


	4. Chapter 4

"You said so yourself. He's got multiple fractures throughout his body, a punctured lung, minor internal bleeding, cuts and bruises all over, and, I'm using your words here, 'very likely some form of brain damage.' But you still won't keep him for another night!?"

The voice sounded strange, like it was coming in from under a sheet or something. I tried to open my eyes, but even the tiny crack I managed was like shoving an ice pick into the back of my skull.

All I saw in that instant were two blurry shapes against a white background.

Once the pain in my skull calmed down enough I noticed a steady beep that persisted somewhere in the background, and that the room smelled overly clean.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we've already had him here for two days," one of the blurs said. "The doctor has already done everything he can. If he had some kind of insurance I'm sure some more treatments or tests could be arranged. But at it stands, you can't even tell us his name."

"That shouldn't matter!" The other voice said loudly. "I got him here so that you could help him. Not throw him out after you put a few bandages on. It's your job to make sure he makes it out of here healthy!" Another beep sounded off. One every predator knew by heart.

"Ma'am, if you don't calm down, I'll have you removed from the hospital. We don't want you exciting any other predators with your emotional outbursts."

There was a pause in the conversation, followed by a large breathe in. Then out.

"Fine, but I'm not leaving his side. No matter what you, or anyone else says." Whoever was talking had nothing but steel in her voice. I imagined she was a tiger or some other large predator to be talking like that.

The nurse, I assumed, stuck to her guns even against the angry predator. "If you're able to remain calm then that won't be a problem. When he wakes up we'll begin to process him out. There's nothing else you or I can do about that."

Eventually my head stopped hurting enough that I could open my eyes properly.

The larger blur turned out to be an elderly zebra nurse. She was dressed in a white angelica dress with a clipboard in her hoof. Her expression was one of concerned detachment. She seemed like a veteran that knew which patients needed more or less attention. By the look on her face it seemed like she put me in the latter category.

The other woman in the room was an otter in a blue knee high dress. I was surprised that all that determination and rage had come from her. I wasn't a stranger to how dangerous otters could be, but I always considered myself to be an outlier.

"I could use some water," I said weakly. My voice filling the silence that had fallen over the room.

Oddly enough the otter was quicker than the nurse. She had a glass of water ready for me almost immediately.

"Here you go dear. Take as much as you need." She cooed softly.

I took several small sips and laid back down in the bed. The nurse had moved to the opposite side of me and was eying the equipment.

"How are you feeling right now sir," she asked. Ready to jot down my answer on her little clipboard.

"I think it's fairly obvious that he's in a _great_ _deal_ of pain, and should stay here overnight," the otter answered. Her tone full of annoyance. The nurse responded with a silent scowl.

While I was sure most mammals would appreciate this kind of attention from a beautiful woman, it caused me more grief than I needed.

"I'm feeling pretty banged up, but you should see the other guys," I said with a small laugh trying to lighten the mood. That ended up being a mistake as my laugh quickly turned into several painful coughs.

"You're going to have to be careful sir. You took a serious beating last night. You're extremely lucky that there seems to be no permanent damage. Though you can expect to be in a fair amount of pain over the next few weeks."

"Bedside manner could use some work," I heard the otter mumble.

The nurse either didn't hear her or ignored the comment. "I know that this is a little late, but do you know your name sir?"

"Charley Fiume," I said without hesitation.

She wrote down my name before continuing. "Okay then Mr. Fiume. I'm not sure if you heard me earlier, but we've done everything we can for you. All you need now is rest and time. I'm sorry to say that means we'll have to send you home today. If you can show us some kind of insurance we'd be happy to keep you for another night at least."

For telling someone that they were about to be kicked out on their tail, she was surprisingly emotionless. Maybe at one time she would have fought to keep someone like me around a little longer, but that time had definitely passed.

"That is utter shit." The otter, on the other hand, had plenty of fire in her. "There has to be a law or something to keep him here!"

"For the last time Miss Webb," and now the full brunt of the zebra's anger had come to bear. "There is nothing we can do! I have told you that time and time again over the past day! If you don't leave this room this instant I will have you forcefully thrown from the building. Is that what you want?"

"Ladies," I interjected before Webb could retaliate. "Please stop arguing over me. It's not helping anyone."

I winced as I turned to the nurse. "I'm well enough to leave today. If you will just get me my things, I can be on my way. I am very thankful for all that you and the staff here have done for me. Especially since I don't have any insurance."

"Miss Webb," I said, moving to look at her. "You don't have to keep getting in trouble for my sake. If you really want to help, you can escort me out."

In all honesty I didn't care if they stood there yelling at each other until they turned blue, but I preferred not to waste my time.

Webb gave me a look, in what I assume was an attempt to convey something, followed by her consent." If that's what you want, I won't cause anymore trouble."

The nurse gave an audible sigh. "Okay. Excellent. Mr. Fiume I have to fill out some paperwork, but we should be able to get you out of here within the next few hours."

"What about my clothes?"

"They'll be brought up soon, though the state that their in. I wouldn't advise wearing them out."

"I'm sure the police would have an objection or two if I walked out of here without my clothes on. They'll be fine for the trip home."

"If that's what you want." Before she left she gave Miss Webb a deeply unpleasant look.

"You can stay here if you want, Miss Webb, but you know what will happen if you start acting up." With that she walked away. Her hooves clicked into the distance.

"Bitch," Webb said.

"Sorry if that seems rude, but she's been trying for a lot longer than you know to kick you out. Hell, after the first hour they were trying to get you out of here."

"Does that mean you've been with me the entire time," I asked, more than a little curious at what her motives were.

"No, not every hour, but not for a lack of trying," she stuck a thumb out towards the door as a pair of orderlies walked past. "The staff here tried shooing me off more than a dozen times already, but I kept coming back. I think if you hadn't woken up today, they probably would have called in the police. Which would have been no fun."

She was chatting so nonchalantly to me, someone who's first impression was a bloodstain in a dirty alley, that I was having trouble deciding how to handle her. Most of the mammals I knew were predators, and not even the ones I've been around for years would stick up for me like that. But here was some random otter that was willing to jump right into the fray. On top of that, she was somehow more upbeat and cheery than a pregnant rabbit.

Somehow the conversation had shifted to a flower store or something, but I was interested in her.

"What's your name," I said, cutting her off.

She paused for a moment, but didn't seem to mind my interruption. "It's Lilian Webb. Sorry, I guess it's a little strange to be talking with someone without knowing their full name."

I gave her a wry smirk. "It isn't that strange."

"Honestly," I continued, steering the conversation towards more interesting matters. "What has me most surprised about you is how…nice…. you've been to me. I mean really, you wouldn't know me from Adam. Even so you threw yourself right into a dangerous situation to help me. Why did you do it?"

At this her body language softened up. She looked off to the side while her hands moved to her lap. Two small fists that seemed to shake slightly against her dress.

"I've always been an emotional girl," she said not looking at me. "Before my taming party I was always laughing or crying or just reacting to everything I experienced. It didn't matter what it was, I wanted everyone to know how the world made me feel." She looked back at me with a sad smile.

"My folks did their best to teach me to keep myself in check, but I never wanted to listen. I always thought that the collar wouldn't be strong enough to keep me from expressing myself."

She shrugged. "We both know how true that is."

"Alright, so you're an emotional mammal," I said calmly. "I know a few of those myself, but that doesn't mean they'd go running into a fight to save a stranger."

"It's because of everything the collars do. Not just in stopping us from feeling how we're supposed to, but how it makes all the prey look at us." She pulled the collar as far as it would go from her neck.

"This thing implies there's something wrong with us. But that isn't true," she said with equal parts rage and shame. "We're the same as every other mammal out there. We need to show our love, hate and sadness as much as the prey do. Hell, maybe more thanks to these damn collars!"

I thought back to what the nurse said earlier. "Maybe you should..."

"But no," she yelled. "Every time we walk down the street with these things on, it's like were acknowledging that we're some kind accident. I am not an accident! Aieagh!"

From the smell of singed hair I could tell the shock was pretty strong, but her cry was from more than just the physical pain.

She rubbed her eyes with her paws. A few tear stains were noticeable on her dress. "I just want to be normal."

Comforting animals was not my strong suit. For her, I felt like I had to try something.

I moved forwards and gently placed my hand against her cheek. Her head pushed my hand down until it was held between her cheek and shoulder. Trapped like I was my hand couldn't do much, so I gently rubbed my thumb against her cheek.

It wasn't long before my arm started to hurt, but I willed myself to endure it.

Soon enough she let go my hand and I laid back down.

"Look at me," she said tiredly. "I'm being comforted by a guy who's so broken up he can barely sit up straight."

"It could be worse," I responded. "You could be me."

She smirked at that. "Yeah, but at least then I'd have a beautiful woman like myself keeping me company."

"A beautiful woman that seems hellbent on getting kicked out of a hospital. You're lucky that nurse hasn't been back yet."

"Yeah….I guess I am."

"Don't worry. If she comes back we'll scare her off," I smiled with as many teeth as possible. "We are vicious predators after all."

"Hahaha!"Her laugh was loud and impossible to resist. If it hadn't hurt so much, I probably would have been laughing with her. The best I could muster was a small chuckle.

* * *

The next couple of hours we spent talking. Mostly it was her telling me about herself. How she wanted to learn to be a nurse, then later realized that predators didn't work as nurses or doctors. Eventually she decided to open a flower shop, even hired on a few workers, which had unexpected benefits.

"You do not have any idea how quickly people will stop messing with you when there's a 13 foot tall elephant ready to back you up. Also, very dextrous trunks. Gwen does some really great stuff with that thing."

At one point a nurse came in and redid my dressings. After wards she helped me put my filthy clothes on. She explained that I'd have to be careful not to overexert myself, to keep pressure off my leg, yadda yadda yadda.

It was early evening by the time Lillian helped support me out of the hospital. She kept her hand on my back while I tried getting used to having a crutch in one arm while the other was stuck in sling.

Cars rushed by us as we stood on the sidewalk "Will you be okay standing by yourself for a second?"

I nodded.

"Good, because a cab isn't going to flag itself down." She stepped away carefully and got closer to the curb. She waved her arm in the air to get a taxi's attention.

"I'd like to take you out," I blurted as a taxi neared. My proposal was far less smooth than I wanted. I blamed it on the pain.

Yeah, that's what did it.

"You know you don't have to take me out Charley. I would've helped anyone."

"I know, but let me have this one. You spent so much time with me the past day. I think a dinner on me is the least I can do."

She opened the door helped me in. "Okay Charley, you're on."

From inside her purse she grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled down her number.

"I know you're going to be busy healing for the next couple of days, but try not to keep me waiting too long. Understand?"

With a wink she closed the door. As the taxi pulled out into traffic she stood on the sidewalk and waved me goodbye.

As the taxi drove I couldn't help but hope that I healed quickly.


	5. Chapter 5

I recalled the nurse saying I was going to hurt for awhile, but the bitch didn't say it would be this bad. Whatever drugs they had snuck into my IV at the hospital, I wanted them back.

Every breath led to a domino effect of pain. From my chest to my arms and legs, then recycling back into my chest. It was a cycle of pain that I intended to pay back in full. That was for later though, for now I had other things to do.

My apartment wasn't much more than a single room with barely enough furniture to fill it. Bed, kitchenette, some appliances, and a table with a single chair. That was all I needed.

The clock next to my bed blinked 11:42. The Claw would be opened soon, which meant I had to move if I wanted to get my business done before it started to fill up.

It was slow going, but I managed to get out of bed without passing out from the pain. Getting dressed required a similar level of concentration.

I had to stop several times during the process to wait for the pain to subside long enough to get to the next piece of clothing. I realized it wouldn't have been worth the effort to get my left arm into my shirt, then back in the sling. Instead I just put my right arm through a ratty button up and pulled the left side over the sling. Lucky for me it was warm enough to go without an under shirt.

My leg felt like an elephant had stomped on it, but it was good enough to walk on without the crutch. As I walked past it I thought about what Lillian might have said about how I was pushing myself. She'd probably be all over me about taking it easy.

Ha, like predators had anything easy in our lives.

I closed the door and limped my way to a cab.

* * *

McClawson's Pub had been a staple for predator misbehavior since the early '40s. Based in one of the earliest ghettos of the city, pred's used to come here all the time to cause a bit of trouble. Back in those days a lot of folks just wanted a place to relax and pretend they weren't some minority that got stepped on all the time.

Tempers flared, fights broke out, and history was made there. As far as shitty bars went in run down ghettos, it was the gold standard.

Nowadays the place was a dive bar of the lowest caliber. More than half the tables and chairs in the place were broken one way or another, and the few things that had been kept safe were so pathetically old they would have fit better in a museum.

About the only thing that place kept up to date was the bar top and the beer.

Over the years, especially with the tame collars entering circulation, the bar shifted from a place for fun to a place for business. As it stood, it was the unofficial meeting place for most of the pred hit men and criminals in the city. Tasha, the black bear owner of the bar, had one arrangement or another with all of us.

She had one rule that everyone had swear to before she'd let us do our business. If the cops ever picked us up, we were to never mention her or The Claw. She didn't care much about what we did with our lives, as long as it didn't mess with hers.

The few times someone snitched and brought the cop's attention, the troublemakers were met with an immediate response from one of the local criminal organizations. The Claw was vital to all our businesses, and we weren't about to lose it because some kit couldn't muzzle up.

Like it's surroundings, The Claw's prime had passed it by. Bricks were cracked or falling out all over. The windows had bars over them and there was swaths of aged graffiti barely visible over the years of grime and poor maintenance.

Just another day at the office for me.

I pushed through the filthy entrance and took in the poorly lit watering hole. It was early in the afternoon still, and the only people there were the diehard drunks and losers. Myself excluded.

A few preds lounged around a table, talking quietly to each other. I saw The Claw's most infamous drunk, Cyrus, sitting on his reinforced stool. Even as a rhino a lot of preds thought they could scare him off from hanging in 'our' neighborhood.

After he put a few in the hospital, and one in the morgue, people learned to leave him alone. Being old friends with Tasha helped out too.

As I walked up to the bar, my mind wandered to Lillian again. She'd probably be all over this place. Chatting up pred's, getting their stories or whatever. She'd practically guarantee trouble for me.

"Wow Emmy," I heard from a corner behind me. "I knew your days were numbered, but I didn't think they would be so soon." Apparently Lillian didn't even have to be here to get me in trouble.

I stopped walking in the middle of the bar and stood there silently. I knew who the voice belonged to, and waited for my fellow hit man to start her little game.

"It's actually pretty sad to see you like this. Maybe someone should put you out of your misery?" Jordan's voice brushed against my ear, both quiet and dangerous.

She once boasted she never felt more alive than when she was on a "hunt", staking out her mark and waiting in the shadows for the right moment. She wasn't bad for a hit man, but she was as careless as she was arrogant. Her last job ended in a particularly bloody free-for-all that she barely turned around in her favor.

"I thought you 'apex' predators were supposed to be the top of the food chain," I said without moving an inch. "It wouldn't be very impressive to take an otter out when he's already beaten up. Would it?" Insults were one thing, but not even bothering to turn around and look her in the eye would cut her even deeper.

She snarled and slowly moved to stand in front of me.

Jordan was leaner than a lion or tigress, but that didn't make her any less dangerous. Every time she moved the light glided across her coat, dancing along her body like it were glass. If she never opened her damn mouth she'd be one of the most stunning mammals around.

"That's funny coming from a river rat."

Ah well.

"You couldn't catch a bug burger if it was laying in the garbage. Not like us Jaguars, we're naturals. A few centuries back, we hunted down whatever walked in front of us. Hell, we'd take down herds of buffalo just for the fun of it." She brought her claws out and showed them off like they were a fashion accessory I couldn't afford.

"Aside from the fact that you clearly don't know your own specie's history, you don't even know that otters aren't related to rats."

Her eyes shifted from admiring her claws to look back at me. "Oh, I'm sorry Emmy," she said feigning embarrassment. "How could I be so foolish? Please, enlighten me with your vast knowledge of mammal history."

"I'd be happy to, you brain dead simpleton." With a woman like her, it was best to show you couldn't be intimidated.

The joy in her smirk shifted towards annoyance. "You better stop with the insults Em-" But I cut her off.

"Otters are in the _Musteli_ _dae_ family. Right there with weasels, minks, badgers, and wolverines. Our ancestors have been known to hunt several weight classes above our own. Little known fact, the wolverine isn't the only fearless mammal in our family. Something that I believe my reputation proves several times over."

She shifted her stance to show she was done having fun. "You saying you could take me on right now Emmy?"

"All I'm saying is, I'm not afraid. Take that how you will." As I finished my comment, I realized I had pushed her too hard. Her smile shifted and it was obvious what she was going to do next.

"I think I just might," she threw her paw up in the air, ready to slash down at me as she moved her weight back for a pounce. Four claws stood out against the grimy ceiling tiles as they started to sail down at me. I bent my knees to try and roll away but I doubted my leg would be able to handle the maneuver.

Before she could finish her fatal strike, a gravelly voice rang out across the bar.

"Stop right there Jordan," Tasha yelled with pure force. She stood a few steps behind Jordan, baseball bat in hand. Cyrus stood beside her as well, his glazed eyes seemed to barely register the situation. Jordan's paw hung in the air above my head.

"I barely tolerate you in here as it is bitch, but you move that paw one inch closer to Emmitt and the only way you'll scare people is as a head mounted on the wall." Tasha's collar zapped her once, but she didn't even flinch.

Quick as a flash Jordan spun around to look at Tasha. Her tail flicked me across the face once her back was full towards me. I moved towards the side to avoid being struck again.

"Baby, don't be like that," she cooed at Tasha. "I was just having a little...uh...professional conversation with Emmy. You know how it is. Sometimes in our business you need to show a little force. Especially as a woman."

Tasha's eyes narrowed as her collar flashed to yellow. "The fuck did I tell you about calling me _baby,"_ she said with a voice that sucked the heat out of the room. Eyes shifted between the bear and the jaguar, waiting to see what would happen next.

Jordan gave a wicked grin. "Ah, I forgot, you don't like pet names. Don't act like we didn't have something special before."

"RRAGHH," Tasha yelled as she threw the bat at Jordan's head. She ducked under the bat and rolled gracefully away as it crashed through one of the bar's windows. Cyrus surged forward, arms outstretched, as Tasha stood behind. She was doing all she could to resist falling to the collar's brutal shocks.

"Not today you brute!" Jordan danced between Cyrus's arms and leapt straight up in the air. She placed her paw on top of his head and directed herself towards the door.

"I'll be seeing you Emmy! You too, Baby doll!" And then she was gone. Her exit left us feeling like we were in the wake of a natural disaster. Nothing left to do but damage control.

Things returned to normal quickly. The preds at the tables went back to minding their own business. Cyrus wandered over to the window and yanked the baseball bat free. Glass shards fell to the ground and were turned to dust under the overweight rhino's foot.  
"Come on Emmitt, I'll get you a drink," Tasha said, in her gravely tone. Her anger finally calmed down enough for the collar to rest.

Tasha was a prime example of collar abuse. A few years back she had an incident with the ZPD. She got roughed up pretty good in a bogus raid, but she gave as good as she got. Eventually she was knocked down into a fountain. Her collar started shorting out immediately. She tried to get out, but the cops just kept shoving her back in. Probably hoped the collar would take her out. Somehow she outlasted it, said it was her hate that kept her alive that day. All that electricity messed her up pretty good; singed off all the hair around her neck, ruined her voice, and probably cut her lifespan in half.

"I don't know why you put up with her shit Tasha," I said, jumping up onto the nearest bar stool. Cyrus took up his usual spot two stools down from me.

Glasses clinked as Tasha searched for one clean enough to drink out of. "It's all or nothing Emmitt. I start with her, that just means I'll find someone else that annoys me enough to ban. Then another, and another." She placed a cool beer in a mostly clean glass before me.

"Your kind aren't exactly the most polite or enjoyable company Emmitt. This kind of shit happens," she said plainly.

"Fine, but you know almost everyone hates her."

"Yeah, I know."

"A few of us even know what happened that one night," I said quiet enough only she could hear. "I doubt anyone would bat an eye if she was banned, or…." I let the implication hang in the air.

Tasha put her large hands on the bar and leaned against them. A calming breathe blew out past her sharp teeth.

"Enough Emmitt. We're done talking about this." Cyrus gave me a sideways glance as a warning, but I had said my piece. Tasha was an adult, and she could make her own decisions.

"That's fine. You do what you have to." I took a few sips from my drink and let things calm down between us.

Tasha came back from giving some coyotes their drinks and I decided to get to business.

"I did some work a few nights ago Tasha. One of our friends should have dropped off my payment."

"Yeah, I got it. Do you want it?"

"Not yet." I turned to the hulking mass of rhino next to me. "I'll pay your tab if you do a quick job for me Cyrus."

"What," his deep voice drawled.

"I left a duffel bag full of stuff in an alley near the corner of Fanning and Greene. It's stuffed in a hole with a couple of cinder blocks covering it up. Shouldn't be too far from the entrance. Just grab it and bring it back here for me. The sooner the better."

He finished his half full beer in a single gulp and left to run my errand for me. Cyrus wasn't good for much, but something simple like this was right in his wheelhouse.

"That little errand just cost you about two hundred dollars you know," Tasha said matter-of-factly."

"It's fine," I replied with a dismissing wave. "Better to get it down now and cost me a few bucks than leave it sitting there for someone to find. You take your percentage out yet?"

"Safely stored away as soon as it came in."  
"Good, then you can spare a few coins. I need to make a call."

She walked over to the register and smacked it on the side. The drawer came rushing out with a loud series of clangs. The coyotes turned their heads at the sound of money, but Tasha's no-nonsense glare sent them right back to their drinks.

"Here." She poured the change into my opened palm. "You know where the phone is."

I limped towards the back of the bar where the solitary payphone quietly sat on the wall. I put my change in a dialed. The phone rang once before it was picked up.

"This is detective Roscoe Higgins," he said with disinterest.

"Hello Roscoe. We have a mutual friend whose ailing mother is not long for this world," I said into the receiver.

"Is that so," he asked while his chair squealed as he got up. "Give me a second, would ya?"

He left on hold for a few moments, but when he returned he sounded much more like the crooked police officer I had dealt with before. "Now that we've got a little privacy. Who am I speaking to?"

"It's Emmitt."

"Em," he said, holding the m longer than was necessary. "It's so good to hear from you. You know, it's funny. I think some officers just found some of your handiwork recently."  
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said nonchalantly. Higgins was always fishing for more information than he needed. He was in bed with a lot of criminals, and already knew too much about me for my liking.

"Is that so? Well, I heard from a few of the guys that there was a pig that had killed himself last Friday. Landlord found him this morning with a fancy brain patterned paint job in his bedroom."

"Animals kill themselves all the time Higgins. You aren't implying I'm the cause of all of them are you?"

"Ha, if anyone was that good it would be you Em. No, I just find it odd that a pig, who had been seen with the infamous gang leader Eddie Redmane, would all of a sudden wind up murdered like that."

"I thought you said it was a suicide?"

"Slip of the tongue." I could just imagine the grin he had after his little joke.

"Stick to what you know Higgins, kidnapping mammals off the street that your gang friends don't want around. Leave the detecting to real cops."

"Emmitt, you wound me." The way he said my name made my fur stick on end. He was nothing but smooth words and condescending smiles.

"I'd like to." I heard him start to respond, but my patience with him had already run out.

"I'm looking for some kids Higgins," I said cutting off any chance he had to speak. "They're a group of Oryx that drive around in a red convertible in a certain prey neighborhood. They like to beat up pred's walking the streets at night. Kid I want specifically is named Trip. Could be short for something."

"Wow Em, it's a real honor. After so long I figured you'd never ask me for help."

"Stop calling me Em. Only reason I'm calling is because, unlike you, I actually spend most of my time working. You going to find them for me or what?"

"I'd be happy to. Lets think of this as the beginning of a wonderful friendship. Where do these young criminals like to hangout?"

"I don't recall the name, but I heard there was a suicide in that area recently."

Higgins chuckled over the phone. "I see. That should make things easier. When can I expect to see the donation to our annual policeman's ball?"

"When you find them." I hung up the phone before I had to hear anymore of his faux kindness. Higgins liked to pretend he wasn't as bad as regular crooks by putting on airs, but you ask anyone around, they knew he had a price.

My chest hurt from all the talking, and I wanted nothing more than to pass out at home, but I had business elsewhere. I started leaving the Claw for my next meeting.

"Hey, Em, stick around a second." Tasha called before I could walk out the door. I shrugged and went back to my seat at the bar. My unfinished beer still there.  
Eventually Tasha finished what she was doing and came over to talk to me.

"What did you want to talk about Tasha?"

She nodded her head in my direction. "You. Actually. You're out of it today."

I gave a sweeping motion over my injured body. "You might have missed it, but I recently received a major ass kicking. I think I'm allowed to be out of it.

"No, that ain't it. I've seen you worked over before, even then you were sharp enough to check your corners. This is something different."

"You're not one to normally care this much," I deflected.

"Most of the time that's true, but you pull in a lot of money for me and aren't a total piece of shit. I don't want to hear about you getting killed because your head isn't in the right place."  
"Thanks for the concern Tasha, but I'll be fine. See you around."

I turned over what Tasha said in my head as I left. It was true that Jordan didn't usually get the drop on me. But it was like I told her, I got pretty beat up. My injuries just got in the way of my head. That's all it was. They were the distraction.

Nothing else.


End file.
